Ophelia pushed forward before Brock could argue about his job position. “Did Christian kill Hank?”
Ace didn’t even blink. “No.” Rolling his neck, he leaned back against the counter. “I know C seems like an oddity to some people, but he’s a good guy. Yeah, he prefers wilderness to structures and animals to people, but he’s been through some shit in his career, and he’s coping better than most. One thing he would never do is kill family. Period.”
“I think you killed Hank and are drinking yourself to death out of guilt,” she asked softly.
“You’re wrong.” Ace met her gaze levelly, his green eyes a shade off of Brock’s. “I understand your line of thinking, but you’re just way off. Honestly. A hunter, probably some jackassout for fun from the lower forty-eight and on vacation, way out of his depth, accidentally shot Hank. Either he or she didn’t realize it, or they did and ran away like scared cowards, but nobody around here killed Hank.”
He was lying. Ophelia could point to no obvious evidence of deception, but she knew, she freaking knew, that he wasn’t telling the truth.
She smiled. Her most genuine, casual, feminine smile. “You’re full of shit, Ace.”
He blinked. For the first time, he showed surprise as his gaze cleared and his eyes widened just enough to be noticeable. Brock jerked back, for once exhibiting a reaction not deliberately calculated. Yeah. They hadn’t expected her to catch the deception or call him on it.
Brock cleared his throat.
Ophelia held up a hand. “You’ve all been lying to me. Why, I don’t know. All four of you were in town when Hank died, and Brock is the only one with an alibi. An alibi I need to follow up with later today.” She would not take the man with her, either. “Now start talking, or you both could end up being charged with lying to a federal agent, which comes with prison time, if I remember right.”
Neither man said a word. How irritating. Not a lick of this made sense. She could tell they’d all loved Hank. “I need to borrow your truck today until I can find one to buy,” she murmured.
Brock’s eyebrow lifted. “Why?”
“To go somewhere. You and I are not on the same page on this investigation, and you’re not even admitting you’re the sheriff. So I’m asking you as a friend to borrow your truck.”
“As a friend?” His eyes burned an unfathomable green. “Is that what we are?
She had no clue how to define what they were. “No.”
“You seem to be forgetting that somebody has been shooting at you.” He stood and started collecting the dirty plates. “I’m happy to drive you since we’ve got about a day or two before most of the river road becomes impassable by truck. I take it you want to interview my alibi for the day of Hank’s death?”
“Yes,” Ophelia said.
Brock shrugged. “Monica and David live in the opposite direction of here, on the other side of the river. I’ll drive you and wait in the truck for as long as you need.” He took the dishes to the kitchen.
She hid her surprise at his acceptance of her goal for the day. “Ace? I suggest you meet with an attorney soon.”
“Not necessary,” Ace said, taking his mug to the sink, eyeing his brother. “You really going to take your current, um, girlfriend to meet your ex?”
Brock started doing the dishes. “Monica and I didn’t date, and from the tone of the agent currently wearing my T-shirt, we aren’t either right now.” While his voice remained level, a muscle ticked in his strong jaw. “I hate that this one mistake may screw up Monica’s life. David shouldn’t have to know.”
So they were back to ‘agent’ again. Fine. That worked for Ophelia. The sense of betrayal felt real. She’d almost considered Monica a friend. But she could also understand a mistake and wanting to keep it from David. Maybe. Honesty mattered. Ophelia would have to dig deep for objectivity considering she could be the current lover. Maybe. At the moment, maybe not.
So she jumped in with both feet. “After I speak with a couple of witnesses today, I’d like to organize a meeting with the four Osprey brothers at the same time. Can you arrange that for me?”
Neither Osprey brother looked at each other. Both stared at her, and neither showed an ounce of emotion. She couldn’t get a read on either one of them.
Not even close. Yeah, she really needed to find her own vehicle somehow in town. She made a mental note to call Flossy and see if she could help.
For now, it was time to discuss Monica’s one night stand.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Monica Luna stood eye-to-eye with Ophelia in her bare feet—a rare occurrence, given Ophelia’s height. While both women were tall, Monica had a full-figured frame, her generous curves filling out her beige sweater and dark jeans as though they’d been tailored for her. She was stunning, with striking blue eyes, thick brown hair, and full pink lips. This time, however, Ophelia found herself resenting that beauty.
“I’m sorry about this, Olly.” Monica looked pale today. Her gaze moved beyond Ophelia to Brock waiting in the truck and she gave a hesitant wave. “I screwed up.” Then she stepped to the side. “Come on in.”
“Sorry? You knew I was coming?”
Monica nodded. “Brock texted me a heads up.”
